


Deine Toten Werden Leben

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Series: Zombie AU [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Canon Gay Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Gay Sex, Grief/Mourning, House Baratheon, House Tyrell, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Occasional Foreign Language, Oral Sex, Sibling Bonding, Survival, Survival Horror, Survivor Guilt, Travel, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But your dead will live; their bodies will rise...  and the earth will give birth to the dead." Isaiah 26:19 </p><p> A plague spread by rats, infected with eyes as cold as glass, and survivors with little remorse-- this is the new face of the world. As civilization slowly slips away, and the comforts of family and friendship become memories of a distant past, Loras, Renly, and Margaery must remain together to remind one another of their humanity, or else face a fate worse than death. </p><p> Zombie AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: This fanfiction will NOT be updated for some time. I am currently writing the story, and as of the time of my posting the prologue (11/08/2014) I have completed twenty-two chapters out of who knows how many. However, these chapters will not be posted until the entirety of the fanfiction is complete. I like to complete my stories before I post them, but I can't help but give you guys a preview of what is in store. 
> 
> I would really, really appreciate any feedback on this prologue. I want to know if this is something you're all interested in. I won't stop writing if I get no feedback, but it is easier to keep going knowing I have some excitement. 
> 
> Like I said, this story will NOT UPDATE FOR SOME TIME, BUT I HAVE NOT ABANDONED IT. If all goes as planned the story will be done come early 2015, and that is when you will see the rest of the story. I am not one to give up on fics, so when I say it will be done, it WILL be done. 
> 
> And with that-- enjoy :)

The passage of time had been quickly abandoned by Loras the day he realized such products of civilization had little meaning anymore.

Other things had been abandoned along with it. Emotions and feelings that had once come so freely for him were pushed down; shoved into the pit of his stomach to sit and curdle away, a guilty reminder of what he’d become. Mercy was replaced with vengeance, trust with doubt, and peace with grief. Humanity joining hands in unity was a laughable fairy-tale; a naiveté that chocked Loras and strangled the last of his boyish innocence. He now knew that the reality was more survival of the fittest—a dog eat dog world.

Or maybe a human eat human world was a more apt description.

Loras no longer clung to reminders. Reminders of whom he used to be or what life was like before the fall. None of it mattered. Civilization was no longer. The passage of time was no longer. One foot in front of the other was what mattered. The snap of a twig and the flash of a figure in the distances was what mattered. _Survival_ was what mattered.

But for some there was more. For some—the delusional and the hopelessly hopeful—there was still meaning. There were still things to be remembered.

Renly was one of those delusional hopefuls.

Loras would watch him as he scribbled in a scuffed up notebook, dates carefully written on the top of each sheet followed by the weather that day and the season they were in; spring, summer, fall or winter. Within the margins were entries full Renly’s thoughts and emotions, what they’d done that day and where they were planning on going. At least, that was what Loras assumed was there. He’d snuck a few peeks when Renly wasn’t looking, but had found it was all written in German, a mindless mess of vowels and dots he could barely pronounce let alone understand. Loras found his name now and again, as well as a few others he recognized but wished he could forget. But they had become few and far between as the seasons changed. Now, whenever Loras looked, he only saw his name.

It seemed there were some things even Renly didn’t want to remember.

Loras hadn’t asked Renly what he’d written down or why he kept the notebook, feeling he was allowed what little privacy he still had. But the book was almost full-up, the corners completely rounded where they were once sharp and angled, some papers creased badly so that they stuck up awkwardly between the still flat sheets, and the cover that had once been black was now scratched and faded, more grey than black. By all accounts Loras should have told him to abandon it. It took up too much room; room that could otherwise be used for more useful things, like an extra flashlight or a box of matches. But it was important to Renly, just like the length of Loras’ curls was important to him. Loras had always been terrible at denying Renly anything, even in the middle of such extreme circumstances.

And so the hair stayed a certain length and the notebook remained a silent traveling companion to the both of them, the outline seen against the front of Renly’s backpack as they trudged down an abandoned roadway in the middle of Switzerland.

“How much longer do you think we will be walking today?”

Loras’ gaze drifted from the outline of the journal to the sun up above. Squinting, he tried to gauge the amount of sunlight they had left. He figured six hours, give or take a half hour.

“Five more hours. Keep your eyes peeled for a safe spot to stop and—”

“Set up camp. Yes, I know.”

That was the first thing they’d said all afternoon. They’d gotten into an argument earlier that day; Loras was growing tired of Renly’s incessant talking and Renly had grown tired of Loras’ muteness. It was a ridiculous argument, one that remained as petty as it would have seemed years ago when they had no real cares in the world. It was good that they could still argue over the banal.

“It seems I won the argument,” Loras said, feeling he could speak now that Renly had broken the silence.

Renly slowed then, his worn shoes no longer setting the fast pace they had been before on the warming asphalt. “How do you figure?” he asked as they walked side by side.

“Well I did make you shut up for a few hours.” He smiled as he was gently shoved to the side, Renly’s deep chuckle burrowing its way into Loras’ chest, making him feel better than he had for a while.

“I could stop speaking again if you would like. I was beginning to enjoy the songs of the birds.”

That was a constant. No matter how much the world changed the birds remained. Chirping along in the trees or squawking above on abandoned telephone poles, they looked down at you as they always had; with a curious, intelligent intensity. No matter how many corpses the crows ate, the never seemed to come down with the same affliction as others had; not like the rats and the dogs.

“You can talk if you’d like,” Loras said, brushing his hand against Renly’s—a silent apology. Renly returned the brush with the briefest tangle of their fingers, calloused tips running against his wrist. Loras had long forgotten how smooth and delicate Renly’s hands had been.

“Alright, how about I continue with my very interesting discussion about the time I threw up a Swiss chocolate bar all over the back of Robert’s new car—”

There was movement in a shrub beside them on the road, loud enough that Loras heard it but muffled enough Renly hadn’t.

“Shut up,” he said, holding his hand up in front of Renly’s face as he stalled in the middle of the road. Renly did as he was told, but Loras knew he’d just rolled his eyes. “I hear something,” he explained, nodding his head toward the shrubs.

Renly didn’t seem to care, or if he did he was doing a shit job at making it apparent. He just sighed heavily behind Loras and stayed where he was, not reaching for the machete that lay against his hip in a makeshift sheath. Instead Loras saw him swing his backpack around and go digging through it, looking for something whilst whatever it was that was in the shrubs got louder and louder.

Moving away from Renly and heading toward the sound, Loras pulled his bow from off his back, an arrow quickly following behind. Raising the bow slightly, he got into position and waited. Whatever it was wasn’t a deer—they were quieter and didn’t… thump as much. He wondered, briefly, if he should have asked Renly if he knew if there were any bears in Switzerland, but realized he’d find out soon enough.

“I just had a thought…”

Loras’ shoulders tensed as Renly began talking behind him. He shushed him again, attention fixed on the shrubs as the rustling got louder as whatever it was got closer to the edge of the thicket. The image of a shambling figure stopped whatever retort Renly had come up with. It was an old one—probably from the second wave of the infection. It was rotting badly, most of its intestines having been ripped out to hang, ragged at the tips as it dragged through the ground and got snagged on objects. One of its hands was missing, the other stuck in a permanent claw as the muscles seized and stayed that way. An eye was also missing, probably having been picked out by an adventurous raven if the claw marks around its eye socket were anything to go by.

But it had a mouth and one functioning eye, and its legs still worked enough to carry it toward them at a shambling pace. Therefore, it had to die.

“Is it really a threat?” Renly asked as Loras lifted his bow and pulled the string back in one swift motion. Tucking his fingers against his chin, Loras took careful aim at its skull, using the empty eye socket as a focal point. He let out the breath he’d been holding the same time as he let the arrow go, the kiss of the string sliding across his cheek as it flew past.

There was a satisfying squishy thud of the arrow going through the skull, and the sound it made as it hit the pavement a few feet away brought a sense of peace to Loras. “It probably wasn’t a threat, but that doesn’t take away from what it is,” Loras said as he trudged toward the body, wanting his arrow back. Renly grunted behind him but didn’t comment. Instead he was flipping through his notebook, Loras noting a look of concentration on his face as he did so.

“As I was saying before…” Renly began again, the furrow in his brow slowly fading as he began to smile, “I think it is your birthday. Your twenty-second birthday… Yes, it is June the twentieth today. Alles Gute zum Geburtstag.”

Loras stared down at the body of the creature, noting how much smaller they always looked after their spinal cords were broken, stopping the meaningless transmission of messages to the body, telling the _thing_ it had become to kill and maim and consume. Lying like this, you could almost mistake it for a broken, life-sized doll. Or you could have months ago before the rot set in. Or a year, he supposed, if it was his truly his birthday.

Loras never thought he’d be here when he celebrated his last birthday. Back then he had been surrounded by loved ones, full of good food and feeling safe, not a concern in the world but to get home to spend some time alone with Renly. But here he was, his stomach growling and that sense of safety a foreign, almost alien concept as he stood next to Renly, the both of them staring nonchalantly at a corpse. How quickly things changed…

Ripping the arrow out of the skull, Loras inspected the tip through the congealed blood, making sure it was still sharp. He heard Renly come up behind him but still jumped as a hand grabbed his arm. He didn’t turn to acknowledge him but continued to stare at the arrow, trying to shake the past that seeped into him like a chill that wouldn’t leave.

“Did you hear me, Loras? It is your birthday today.”

Loras nodded as Renly spoke again. Bending over he rolled the tip in the grass, cleaning it off before stuffing it back in his quiver. Turning, he looked at Renly, taking in his appearance and how much he’d changed; from the age in his beautiful blue eyes, to the copper tone of his weather-worn skin, freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks. His hair was always messy and shaggy now, no longer perfectly styled and trimmed, and his stubble had turned into a beard that gave him a rugged appearance that Loras had grown fond of. The stylish tuxedoes he wore had been replaced with a flannel top and dirty jeans, his career nothing more than a shadow of the indulgent lifestyle they’d had before.

While Loras tried to forget the past, Renly was there to help him remember. Loras wasn’t sure if he loved or loathed him for that.

“Is it my birthday? I must have forgotten,” he finally said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... stuff happened. Broke my hand, found out I needed surgery, and now I'm on the road to recovery. This took up five months worth of writing time, however, and this story has been stuck on chapter 27 ever since. I feel terrible about making you all wait for so long, so I'm just going to start posting the chapters I have written very slowly, while I start to write for this story again.
> 
> Anyways, here is chapter 2! Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Shout out to deadcarrot on tumblr who helps me with the Bavarian dialect! Couldn't do German Renly without her.

**Thursday**  
19/6/2014  
Spring

**—**

“I can’t wait to get you home…”

“Yeah? What are you going to do to me when we do get home?”

“Fuck you. Hard.”

Loras chuckled. He was going to groan but it came out more of a laugh, the anticipation in his body bubbling up in his chest, making him feel a bit drunk despite having only had one glass of champagne. Renly’s hands were all over him, sliding up his back and then down again, groping his ass as he pulled him in closer. His breath was hot against his cheek, and though the room was dark Loras could see that familiar, mischievous twinkle in Renly’s gaze that promised him he was in for a treat.

“That’s not very descriptive,” Loras said, leaning in to brush his lips against Renly’s cheek before leaving a trail of kisses across to his ear. Renly’s hands tightened on his ass, causing Loras to gasp. “You can surely do me one better by telling me, in great detail, what you plan on doing with me once you’ve got me home. Alone.”

“Well first I will undress you—slowly, of course, so as to prolong your torture—“

“Prolong is an awfully big word—where did you learn that?”

“Shut up. Do you want me to continue or are you content with just being nude in our fantasy?”

“Keep going. You’ve undressed me so now…”

“Now I am going to kiss you. All over. Every single inch of skin I can get to will be kissed. But that too will go slowly—you cannot rush something like that. I will kiss your lips and your neck, your collarbone and your chest. I will pay special attention to your nipples because I know you enjoy that…” Renly’s hands were kneading Loras’ ass now, causing a quite obvious tent in his slacks to form that Loras sure as hell hoped would go away in case someone were to happen upon them.

“Mm, and after that?” he asked. He had grabbed on to Renly’s forearms, holding on to him with an increasingly strong grip. God how he just wanted to be home…

“After that I would go lower and lower, kissing and biting all the way until I reached your cock…”

“And then?” Renly’s warm breath was tickling his neck, lips pressed gently against his pulse, letting Renly know just how ready Loras was to shag right then and there—respectability be damned.

“And then I would take your cock into my—“

The door to the coat closet slammed open with a force Loras hadn’t thought capable of from such a small person like Margaery. He knew it was her before he even saw the outline of her frame in the doorway. It was as if he could _feel_ her disappointment as she grew closer; like knowing a thunderstorm was coming, ozone sharp in the air and the gentle buzz of electricity coursing through your veins. He’d felt it, but he’d tried to ignore it.

Renly hadn’t felt it, however, if the noise he made was anything to go by. He shouted something in German (or perhaps it was plain gibberish—Loras couldn’t tell), and yanked his hands back from Loras’ ass so fast he ended up attempting to bury his elbows into the plaster wall behind him, resulting in another Germanic-Gibberish cry.

“Margaery!” Loras said, stepping out of the closet as Renly continued to rub his elbows in the closet they’d been hiding in. “There you are—we were looking for you.”

One of his lamer attempts at a lie. It seemed Margaery was in agreement.

“You were looking for me in the coat closet?”

“Yes. In the closet.” He might as well dig his grave a bit deeper while he was already waist deep in it.

“And how, pray tell, did you think you’d find me by having Renly grope your ass?” She tapped her impossible tall heel on the carpets—thump thump thump—and stared at Loras with an arched brow that he’d seen on her face enough times to know she wasn’t playing around. She looked like their Gran had whenever she was disappointed with him, which was almost all the time.

“We wanted to get away for a bit,” Renly said, finally emerging from the closet, one hand still clasped around his elbow, his cheeks a bit flushed. His tie was all eschew and his hair had become less Cary Grant like and more Tippi Hedren in Birds. “We have been surrounded by people for the last two days; there is no harm in wanting to escape a little, no? Besides, it is Loras’ party.”

“Exactly,” Margaery replied. She reached out to gently touch Renly’s elbow, inquiring as to where it hurt before continuing on with her reprimand. “It is Loras’ party which means he’s expected to socialize. Uncle Baelor has been looking for you all evening; I think he wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

“But it is not his birthday yet,” Renly said, wincing as Margaery rubbed his elbow, getting the muscles to relax. Loras just stood off to the side and watched the exchange, a bit amused at how Margaery was attempting to mother-hen whilst guilt-tripping.

Renly’s comment caused both Margaery and Loras to roll their eyes.

“Do not give me those looks,” he continued, “In Germany it is bad luck to wish someone a happy birthday before their actual birthday.”

“We’re not in Germany, Ren. Your superstitions hold no power in the UK,” Loras said, shifting around subtly to make sure his cock had gone back down again. He didn’t want to stand around with a stiffy in front of his little sister, no matter how close they were.

Renly had been getting increasingly uncomfortable any time he heard someone wish Loras a happy birthday at the unbelievably large party his family had decided to throw for him from their estate outside of London. Unfortunate for Renly, as there had been a lot of early happy birthdays that evening. It seemed everyone had been invited to Loras’ party, including those Loras had never even met. He suspected his birthday was just being used as an excuse to mingle and socialize with England’s elite. His father had certainly invited the right sorts of people, and had been making a conceded effort to gloat about his children and show them off to anyone whom he thought mattered.

That was half the reason Loras had gone to hide in a closet with his partner.

That and his grand desire to get Renly home so they could shag. The last week had been completely void of any privacy, in-laws who had come down to London for the week demanding Loras and his family’s attention. Dinners and lunches and mid-morning brunches had let Loras in an increasingly frayed state, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand another moment of hearing one of his relatives go on about how much he’d grown. Of course he’d grown; the last time his second-uncle twice removed had seen him he was still in his running around naked and finger-paint phase. All he wanted for his birthday was an intimate family dinner, a few gifts, a pat on the back for a job well done at having not perished, and then a good long shag at home to commemorate his birthday. Was that so much to ask?

But it seemed it was. His one birthday wish was being denied to him in favour of glittering glasses filled to the brim with champagne, a live band that played everything from swing to classical, and a cake the size of Loras. A cake he hadn’t even a chance to eat after he’d blown the candles out on account of having been dragged off to meet with someone else.

Sometimes Loras just wished everyone on the planet could fall into a comma for the day save for he and Renly.

Ignoring Renly as he began to protest whether or not bad luck was negated in another country, Loras turned his attention back to Margaery. “Do I really have to go back out there? Can’t you make an excuse? Say you couldn’t find me?” Loras flashed Margaery his best puppy-dog eyes, hoping she’d see reason and leave he and Renly be. Renly slid up beside Loras and made much the same expression, perhaps hoping where one failed two would prevail.

“Loras, if I could I would. But mother has been working hard at this party for the past few months—you wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?”

The mother card. Oh how Loras loathed that card. It was almost as bad as the little sister card Margaery would pull when he was being particularly stubborn about something.

“No, I suppose not.” Loras was beginning to realize he was hooped either way. At least he had Renly with him to weather the storm.

Margaery broke out into a huge grin, her long, dangly silver earrings swinging as she perked up and grabbed both their hands, dragging them to the garden. “Good. Now, come back to the party, mingle for another hour or so, and then we’ll think of an excuse for you two to get away and enjoy Loras’ twenty-first alone.”

Despite Loras’ disappearance and the dire situation Margaery had described if he were to leave, the event still seemed to be going on rather well. The tents that had been set up in the famous Highgarden rose gardens were light up bright with candles and twinkle-lights, glasses and unused cutlery shimmering under the light, giving the atmosphere a dreamlike quality. Music was still playing, and those who had a partner for the evening were swaying back and forth to what Loras believed to be some old swing song from the war. The piano Renly had played a few movements on had been carefully pulled off to the side, and Loras watched with mild amusement at how the children crowded around it like it was some modern entertainment system.

“They are touching it,” Renly mumbled in Loras’ ear as they strolled past, Margaery leading them through the crowd. “They are getting their fingerprints all over it.”

“It can all be cleaned off, Renly. I swear, sometimes I think you love pianos more than you love me,” Loras teased. His lower lip was quickly caught in a kiss, the two pausing in the middle of the tent.

“You both give me happiness, but in different ways,” Renly replied after a second quick kiss. His hair was still a mess, Loras noted. He wasn’t sure if he should tell him and risk losing Renly to a mirror for the next half-hour, or leave him be and enjoy the tousled look he wore so well. In the end he decided to leave it be, if nothing more than to save them both from Margaery’s ire.

Making their way through the wall of guests, Loras eventually noted his uncle standing off by a pond on the outskirts of the party, a glass of brandy in one hand and a familiar face in front of him. Garlan was talking to him, obviously keeping him distracted as Margaery went off to find the lost Tyrell. He’d have to thank Garlan for covering for him.

“Ah, look who it is,” Garlan said loudly, nodding his head toward Loras as they approached.

Baelor turned around and broke out into a brilliant smile, his hand lifted in a small salute. “Good to see you, Loras,” he said, taking Loras’ hand in a firm shake. It seemed that wasn’t good enough, and Loras was pulled into a one arm hug, a rough pat on his back punctuating the embrace. “I thought I’d never get a chance to formally congratulate you on your recent acceptance into the London Police Academy.”

That was a pleasant surprise. It seemed getting a year older was grounds to overshadow the next step in his career choice. Years ago, had Garlan suggested Loras join the police force like he’d done when he graduated, Loras would have laughed in his face and told him to bugger off. Police work? That was hardly suitable for the glamorous lifestyle Loras had envisioned for himself, in which he was on the cover of World Soccer surrounded by his brilliant team members after they’d won the World Cup. But things had changed since he was seventeen. He’d fallen in love since then.

Suddenly traveling all over the world without Renly seemed a fate worse than death. Staying in London, a city he loved with the people he loved became more appealing as he went from coffee barista job to coffee barista job. His chances of joining a professional football team getting smaller and smaller the longer he waited, but he found he was fine with that so long as he got to curl up next to Renly in their flat every night. Suddenly, that job prospect Loras had not even thought about let alone considered when he was seventeen seemed like an awfully good idea. It was an active job, allowing Loras to let out his energies in a constructive way, and the uniforms didn’t look too bad he supposed. He also did not need top grades from school to get into the academy—a plus for someone who willingly admitted he wasn’t much good with academic pursuits.

“Thank you, uncle. I’m excited for the new opportunities.” And the extra money. He was only willing to work for minimum wage as he attempted to become independent from his parents for so long…

“I know your mother is proud of you—she called me up as soon as she learned the news to gloat. Oh, and happy birthday,” he added on at the end, a cheeky smile sent Loras’ way overtop the rim of his glass. His attention flicked to Renly in that moment, and Loras hoped to god Renly hadn’t pulled a face. People were going to ask if Loras’ partner had some nervous twitch by the end of the night.

“We’re happy to have him on the team,” Garlan added. “We’ve been short staffed for some time, and it seems no matter how many career fairs we do at schools, people just aren’t as drawn to police work as they once were.”

“We can’t all be as good at handing out justice as you, Garlan,” Margaery added in. She had been scanning the crowd as they spoke off to the side and apart from the rest of the party, all huddled up like some Tyrell conspiracy. Loras admired how Margaery could be completely present in a conversation and yet still know exactly what was going on around her.

“You make me sound like Batman,” Garlan said.

Margaery just shrugged. “I never get to see you as often as I’d like; who knows what you get up to in your spare time.”

“You have always reminded me of Superman,” Renly chimed in.

“That’s kind of you to say, Renly. Thank you,” Garlan said. Loras noticed his chest puff out a little bit. Being compared to Batman and Superman in one night would make anyone’s head a little inflated, but Garlan had a way of not letting any praise get to him too much, saving him from the ribbing Loras went through on a daily basis whenever he got too full of himself.

“Your playing tonight was wonderful by the way, Renly,” Baelor said, preventing Loras from going on about how Renly was totally Clark Kent and Garlan was Britain’s Captain America. “Was the first piece you played Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor?”

Renly grinned. “It was. I am glad it was recognizable—sometimes I feel as if I have messed up completely and everyone is just being kind by clapping.”

“It was perfect,” Loras said, nudging Renly gently. “You know you did well—you’re just being uncharacteristically modest.”

Renly shrugged and continued to smile.

“It was well done,” Baelor continued.

“Thank you. It is Loras’ favourite so I knew I had to do my best. What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

“You spoil me,” Loras mumbled. Their fingers gently touched before tangling together, and Loras found himself caught up in Renly’s stare once more. Whenever he looked at Renly it was like the world fell away and all that was left was their perfection. Loras wasn’t sure it was possible to love an individual as much as he loved Renly—he made him feel like he could do the impossible. Loras would do anything for him. No matter what happened, Renly would always be the one.

“You two are impossible,” Margaery whispered in Loras’ ear. Snapping his attention away from Renly, he smiled sheepishly and mumbled an apology he didn’t really think necessary. It wasn’t his fault Renly caught his attention and kept it like a firefly in a jar.

It seemed Baelor had caught on to the obvious disinterest, but took it in his mild-mannered way, patting Loras on the shoulder as he passed, wishing him a happy birthday with a wink. Garlan followed suite, ruffling Loras’ hair as he did so.

“You really are impossible,” Margaery said again, this time louder. She was smiling. Reaching out she began to straighten Loras’ tie before moving on to Renly’s. “You two go out on the dance floor, dance through a few songs—and make sure mom sees you—before venturing on home.” She reached up and ran her hand through Renly’s hair, Renly ducking down for her so she could reach better.

“You’re amazing, Margaery,” Loras said, kissing her cheek. “Where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch—now you two go on and don’t tell anyone I gave you permission to leave your _own_ party.”

“Thank you, Margaery,” Renly mumbled, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. She visibly beamed before shoving them off in the direction of the dance floor just as more distant relatives approached them. Quickly stepping in between the two groups, Margaery began speaking to them, giving Loras and Renly time to pretend they never knew they were being approached.

“Your sister is amazing,” Renly said as they stepped once again under the tent.

Moving through the sea of tables, Loras hurried as fast as he could toward the safety of the dance floor, figuring no one would try and bother them if they were dancing. “Of course she’s amazing—she’s _my_ sister.” He felt Renly’s finger in his lower back, gently prodding him forward.

They finally made it to their safe haven, Loras’ palms tingling a bit in anticipation of what was to come. Not the dancing—although that was certainly appreciated—but getting home; having some peace and quiet; taking his bloody tie off.

“Darf ich dich um diesen Tanz bitten?” Renly asked, his hand extended as they entered the slowly swaying crowd. It was getting late and the band had slowed down and with it the dancers. Leisurely songs were played, easy on the feet and on the ears, and the atmosphere brought out the romantic in many— including Renly.

“I have no idea what you said but yes,” Loras said, taking Renly’s hand in his own, allowing himself to be wrapped up in Renly’s arms. He didn’t have to know what was asked; the answer was always yes.

“I asked if I could have this dance,” Renly replied, voice close as he pressed their cheeks together. “I thought it would be terribly romantic.”

“It was.” Closing his eyes, Loras allowed Renly to move them back and forth to the pace of the music, trusting him to guide them away from any dangers like drunken cousins, long dress trains and tipped over chairs. Whatever the song was that was playing lulled Loras further into a sense of comfort, soothing and unhurried and reminiscent of days gone by. Like this, with Renly’s arms around him as they swayed side to side, Loras felt like maybe he could slow down for a little bit; enjoy the evening for what it was, instead of trying to run off as soon as he could. There was something to be said for having such an event planned for you by your mother…

Still, he’d have still preferred the intimate dinner and the night of sex.

“Who is this?” Loras asked, opening his eyes to look across the way at the band. Renly pulled away slightly to look at Loras, an easy smile on his lips.

“It’s Glenn Miller, mein Röschen.”

“Wasn’t he on the telly a while ago?”

Renly chuckled. Had anyone else laughed Loras would have struck them, but Renly had this ability to calm Loras’ wounded pride. “Maybe in a history show. He died years ago during the war. He got lost in the English Channel or something.”

“For such a small body of water a lot of people get lost there,” Loras said. “Do you like him?”

“Very much so. Do you?”

“Now that I’ve heard him with you I do.”

Knocking their foreheads together, Loras closed his eyes again and did his best not to giggle like a young girl when Renly rubbed their noses together. Deciding to forgo their somewhat lazy attempt at looking like they were actually dancing, Loras wrapped his arms around Renly’s waist, hugging him close and resting his head on Renly’s broad shoulder. Renly’s hand came and cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling in curls he loved so much.

“I lost something over the English Channel,” Renly began.

Lifting his head, Loras blinked at Renly, a bit confused. “What?”

“You were discussing how people get lost. I lost something here.”

“And what was that?” Loras expected something utterly cheesy.

“My heart.”

He was not disappointed.

“Is that why you kept coming back here? You’ve been looking for your heart?” Loras asked, rolling his eyes but enjoying the sentiment non-the-less.

Renly just kissed Loras quickly in response and went back to playing idly with his curls, fingers petting the back of his neck. “I found it was in the possession of a young English boy,” he said after Loras had gone back to resting his head on his shoulder.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I found he was capable of taking good care of it, so I never bothered to ask for it back.”

“That was very kind of you,” Loras replied. He couldn’t help but grin a bit goofily. It was utterly ridiculous what they were saying. They were acting like they were in some terrible romantic comedy, about a young English boy who fell in love with a tall, dark and handsome foreigner and stole his heart. All they needed now was some sordid love affair that took place in an old English manor and a love confession in the rain.

Knowing Willas and his passion for writing such things, maybe he’d already done it and just switched the names. Loras did not want to inquire, however. He knew the sorts of people who read those books…

“I love you,” Loras whispered after a time. He wasn’t sure Renly heard, but that didn’t matter. He’d remind him again of it in another half-hour when he repeated it, and then again in another half-hour. Loras never grew sick of saying it and Renly never seemed to grow sick of hearing it.

The song finished up just as Loras had begun to grow so comfortable he was close to falling asleep. Hating the idea of parting just yet, Loras continued to sway them along to music that was too fast for their pace, not bothering to change their speed to accommodate the change. They danced for another song before Renly was nudging Loras a bit, waking him from the daze good food and alcohol had put him in.

“We should go,” Renly mumbled, kissing Loras’ temple. Loras let out a deep sigh and pulled away from Renly, but quickly caught his hand in his own, tangling their fingers together.

As they began to leave the floor, Renly looked at his watch and tugged Loras close again, capturing him in a kiss that actually hurt a little. “Happy birthday,” he said when they parted, and then waggled his wrist in front of Loras, showing off his watch. Snatching his wrist in a loose grip, Loras stilled him and noted the time.

Twelve o’clock in the morning—right on the nose.

“I almost forgot it was my birthday,” Loras laughed.

“Good thing I am here to remind you,” Renly replied.

Leaning in for another kiss, Loras enjoyed the embrace as they stood under the makeshift chandelier above their heads, casting them in an innocent, warm glow as they celebrated his birthday. Pulling away, Loras spoke again. “Let’s make this year a good one.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Sorry for the wait.

Renly had grown accustomed in his youth to not receiving much affection.

He had been told by Cressen that his mother and father never wanted to put him down when he was born, infatuated with their new son. He was a surprise, conceived well after his parents had stopped planning for a third child, but a cherished surprise none-the-less. He did not remember the comfort they provided, however. His parents had died when he was a babe, and all that he had were sparse photographs of them together, Renly unrecognizable in his squishy, pink, wiggly baby form from the man he had become. The hugs and the kisses had stopped when they had passed away. Robert gave the occasional pat on the head when he was still small, and there had been an awkward, rough hug when Renly had decided to move to England for good, but that was about it. Stannis had been even worse. They never shared any embraces, and at times Renly felt like he was a leper with the way Stannis acted around him, avoiding eye-contact and acting outright hostile at other times. Cressen did what he could, but the love he gave was never the kind Renly needed nor appreciated, the man acting more as an uncle than a surrogate father.

Renly never understood when he was a child, but then again he never bothered to think about it too much. When he would go to his friends after school in a vain attempt to avoid his own home, he was startled with the way his friends were treated by their parents; cookies and a kiss greeting them at the door, along with questions of how their day was and what they had done at school. Even his good friend, Emmon, whose parents were the stereotypical stiff-upper lipped parents, received more thought than Renly ever had by his brothers.

This was why Renly experienced a culture shock of sorts when he met the Tyrells for the first time…

_‘I’ll be at your place in ten minutes. Put on some trousers and try and wake Lorry.’_

Renly stared at the text message on his phone with bleary eyes, trying to make sense of the words as his mind slowly began to wake. Trousers were Hose and Ten Minutes was Zehn Minuten… He swore he sent out a rule to all of his English friends that they were not to speak to him nor write to him in English until he was fully awake and aware. It just was not fair, making him think so hard only seconds after having opened his eyes. But here Margaery was, completely disregarding is perfectly reasonable expectations—as always.

_‘Danke für die warnung. Hoff, dir taugt deine tägliche dosis Deutsch am morgen :)’_

Rolling over, Renly peered over Loras’ shoulder at the alarm clock, trying not to let out the loudest moan imaginably as the bright green letters read ‘9:50’ in the morning. It felt like they had only just got home from the party; it was not fair they still had things to do. It was Loras’ birthday—should that not mean they get the day to themselves?

But the Tyrells had their traditions, and to mess with those traditions spelt certain doom. Renly had his superstitions about early birthday wishes but at least he did not think the planets would fall out of alignment if they did not have Birthday Brunch. Renly did not dare say anything, however, mostly because he knew if he voiced his displeasure at being unceremoniously woken so early in the morning, Loras would as well, and Renly would be blamed for the rebelliousness in their son; never mind the fact that Loras popped out of the womb as rebellious as they came. Garlan joked he had been born giving the two-finger salute.

No, Renly would be silent about his annoyance. Instead he would smile, tell Loras they were going to have a good time, and make him a cup of coffee to get him out the door and into the taxi. The trick, however, was convincing Loras to get out of bed. Loras slept, as the expression went, like the dead. It was nigh impossible to wake him unless he wanted to be woken, which was rare considering Loras liked his sleep. Staring at his back, Renly briefly entertained the idea of pretending he had not received the text so he could go back to bed, only to remember he had replied.

He had eight minutes to get up, though, and he was not going to waste them staring at Loras’ back. Shifting closer, he pressed his nose against the back of Loras’ neck, nuzzling the curls out of the way, and breathed in his scent. He had never had this luxury before—never gotten to curl up with someone like this and feel so utterly content. Loras had offered Renly all the affection he could handle when they had first started dating, and that affection had not wavered in the slightest. Every need and every desire Renly had was satisfied by Loras, whether he knew it or not.

It was terrifying, honestly. He had never relied on a person so heavily before…

He lay against him for some time, almost falling asleep again until he was startled awake again by the buzzing of his mobile. Still Loras did not wake, despite the phone having made the entire bed vibrate. Renly wondered what dreams Loras had that caused him to sleep so deeply.

Sitting up and slipping out of bed, he decided not to read the inevitable cheeky reply from Margaery and instead pulled on some pyjama bottoms, just in time for the door of the flat to open with a loud rattle as the door handle was turned and jiggled a bit. Renly was not sure Margaery had ever knocked before coming into their place—what was theirs as hers as well. It always had been that way, well before Renly had shown up.

She had arrived with tea and coffee, juggling the tray on her arm as she kicked off her heels and padded down the hallway, meeting Renly halfway to the kitchen with a smile on her face that spoke of incredible excitement. Renly was going to pretend he had no idea why she looked so excited.

“You brought drinks,” Renly said as they entered the kitchen, the two saying their greetings with a kiss to each cheek. “Now Loras will have to get up.”

“Once he smells his favourite tea wafting close to him he’ll at least open his eyes,” she said, placing the tray on the table before taking off her light jacket. “I know you’ve been trying your best to make a proper English cuppa the last few years you’ve been here, but I thought we needed the strong stuff right away. You know how Loras gets in the morning.”

“He is not going to be pleased about being woken to go for Brunch. He—I mean _we_ —completely forgot about it and stayed up late last night.” He smiled over the rim of his coffee cup and took in the rich smell of the dark roast. Renly was a glutton for sweets, gorging on as much gingerbread in the winter months as possible, but he always drank his coffee black. Robert told him it would put hair on his chest when he was young. Now that he had the hair, Loras spent most of his time shaving it off of him.

Margaery’s grin became even bigger if at all possible, and abandoning her drink on the table she hurried over to Renly and braced her hands on his shoulders, unable to shake the slightly manic appearance she had been wearing as soon as she entered their flat. “Stayed up late celebrating your new engagement?”

Renly tried to smile but could not quite get it out. It felt more like a grimace and judging by Margaery’s expression it looked that way, too.

“He said no?” she asked quietly.

“No, no he did not say no,” Renly said quickly, hoping to quell her insecurities. “I just… did not ask.”

“What?” Margaery hissed.

“I said: I did not _ask_. Do you not speak English?”

“I heard you the first time, Renly.” Margaery was obviously not in a laughing mood. She was staring at Renly with her cheeks bright pink, lips pulled tight and her hands on her hips. Since they met Margaery had been the one to smack Renly upside the head when he was being an idiot, and it looked like she was getting ready to do that now. The only thing that saved Renly was his quick side-step toward the kitchen table.

“Why didn’t you ask him? We had it all planned out. You were going to take him home, light some candles, do the proper ‘I love you’ speech and then pop the question!” Margaery explained, sitting down across from Renly, her gaze never leaving him as she did so. Renly felt decidedly like a bug pegged to a board. “We had a _plan_.”

“I know—I worked on it for months… I just…” He trailed off and looked down at his cup of coffee. Getting an answer from him was going to be like pulling teeth. He hoped Loras would wake and interrupt the reprimand.

“You bought a ring!”

“I _know_.”

“Renly. Renly look at me.” Renly watched as a dainty hand reached across the table and gripped his wrist gently, her warm, soft skin reassuring despite the fact that she was literally holding him in place so as to prevent any possible escape. She was too cunning for her own good. Sighing, he looked up at her, a bit relieved to see the anger in her eyes had gone, but was not too sure how he felt about the sympathy look. “Why didn’t you ask him? We both know he’d say yes. He’s… he’s your everything, and you’re _his_ everything. He abandoned his footie dreams to be with you—that’s got to say something.”

It had said something to Renly, which was the reason he got such a silly notion in his head in the first place. Proposing to Loras seemed like a perfectly good idea months ago when it was just a thought, the realities of such a proposition safely stored away, left to spring out like a jack-in-the-box just days before the planned event. When he had first thought about asking Loras to marry him they had just come back from their vacation in Berlin. They had spent the week club-hopping, sightseeing, eating, and shagging each other’s brains out in their romantic hotel room, no one to bother them and nothing to care about save for each other. Renly could not remember a better time in his life, and he certainly could not remember a time when he had been so fucking in love he might just suffer cardiac arrest from the way his heart skipped a beat whenever Loras so much as looked at him.

Coming back home, Renly was more than willing to make the leap and literally ran over to Margaery’s new apartment to ask her if it was a good idea. A celebratory drink and a few hugs later and Renly was more than willing to pop the question. But then the waiting game started, and with it all of Renly’s fears and doubts.

He had never seen what a functioning marriage looked like; he had never grown up around one. His parents had died and left only memories of happier times, and his brothers were both completely incompetent with their wives. One was a drunken, abusive lout who had earned nothing but his wife’s malicious rage and an oath of revenge, while his other brother had marched to his wedding bed like a man condemned to a life of hell as soon as he stepped through those doors. Both were loveless, both had their obvious flaws, and as far as Renly was concerned, the issues lay with his brothers and not their wives (although Renly would never, ever admit that to Cersei of all people).

He did not know how to function in a relationship like that, having nothing to base himself off of. What if he was just like his brothers? What if he began to drink and whore and hurt people? What if their marriage was just a death contract waiting to happen? What if they married and Renly hurt Loras, physically or emotionally or both?

So many what ifs and buts and no answers—nothing tangible or solid that Renly could cling to. He did not like the what-ifs in life because they had never worked well for him. If he saw something that he knew he wanted he would take it. But now, now he saw something he wanted but had hesitated in taking that one last step.

The reason Renly never asked was because he was fucking terrified. And no one could know.

The Tyrells did not understand that sort of fear. They did not know what it was like to fall and have no one there to catch you. The unknown was always safe for them. Renly’s unknown was a mess of brambles and thorns. The only place Renly felt like he could let it all out was in his music, but Loras could tell when Renly was upset just by the songs he was playing and how hard he was hitting the keys. And so he kept things bottled up inside so as to save the rest from the uncertainty that plagued him. Instead of telling the truth, like he knew he ought to, he lied.

“I am not positive about if the marriage would be legal in Germany,” he said, watching as Margaery’s fingers slowly uncurled from around his wrist as he began to speak. “Same-sex marriages are recognized in the UK but they are not in Germany.”

“Does it matter? You said you were never going back there.”

“I might want to go back. In the future.”

“You said you’d rather shag a spiked melon than go back to Munich.”

“Well Germany is more than just Mu—“

There was the heavy falls of feet in the hallway and immediately both stopped speaking. Just in time, it seemed, as Loras made it to the kitchen in record speeds, no doubt smelling his tea all the way from the middle of the hallway.

“What is this about melons?” Loras asked as he sauntered into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of underpants. Renly would never understand Loras’ lack of modesty-- _especially_ in front of his younger sister whom Loras still deluded himself into believing was a virgin and did not even know what a cock was.

“I was reminding Renly about his comment about spiked melons,” Margaery said, passing Loras his tea. “Happy birthday by the way.”

“Thank you,” Loras said, and bent down to kiss the crown of her head. Sitting back in his chair, Renly waited patiently to be dotted on, grinning as he received a kiss that tasted of peppermint. For a moment he wondered if Loras had heard the conversation in full, having been awake long enough to brush his teeth, but the oblivious way in which Loras sat himself down in the chair beside Renly and dumbly swirled his tea around told Renly he was barely aware let alone conscious.

“So what were you two chatting about?”

Renly looked to Margaery quickly, a small ‘uhm’ slipping past before Margaery spoke casually about their brunch, effectively saving his skin from further embarrassment and a ruined surprise. Renly still found it odd to be saved from the bus rather than thrown under it like was want to happen as a child.

“We were talking about how mother has booked us a table at that place gran loved to take us. You’d best get cleaned up or else we will be late. You both smell like sex.” Renly scratched under his jaw nervously as Loras glowered at his tea, staring at it like it had been the one to remind him Margaery was anything but naïve. Margaery just grinned and drank the rest of her tea, sitting back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other. “I’ll wait.”

Sighing, Renly left his coffee alone and nudged Loras as he stood, deciding they had better get this over with. The sooner they had brunch, the sooner they would get back home for a much needed afternoon nap before getting ready for another night of dancing and partying. If there was one thing Renly always committed to, it was a good night filled with frivolity.

Loras followed suite, bringing his tea with him, much to Renly’s amusement. “Take a shower together?” he asked from behind Renly, the tips of his fingers dancing across his lower back.

“We have no time for sex,” he said, turning the light on in their bathroom. If they had sex they would be _late_. Shutting the door, he watched as Loras sat on the closed toilet seat and continued to drink, each sip making him look more and more alert. “Besides, were you not satisfied last night?”

“No.”

Renly stopped mid-way to turn on the shower. He felt like his sexual prowess had just been kicked in the head and then shit on. “You… were not?” he asked slowly, turning round to see Loras still sipping his tea casually.

“No,” he repeated, and then looked up at Renly with a lazy smirk. “How could I ever be satisfied when all I want is you? I can never get enough of you. I dare say if I were to live a thousand lives I still wouldn’t feel completely satisfied. You’re my true love.”

It would have been romantic had Loras not been sitting on a toilet sipping lukewarm tea.

XX

“—it was a light blue, sort of like a robin’s egg.”

“So it was robin’s egg blue then?”

“Yes. Well no. Maybe more like the sky, but in the middle of a summer afternoon—”

“—and so I said to him he needed to get the x-rays in right away or else I’d have to postpone the diagnoses for _another_ day.”

“Could you not just ask him to fax them in?”

“Fax? Dad, we don’t fax anymore.”

“Yes you do! I see fax machines all around now. Renly—you still use fax machines, right?”

Renly looked up from his half eaten eggs benedict with mild surprise, blinking back his sleepiness to look across the table at Mace. Mace was staring back expectantly, a piece of bacon firmly gripped between his large fingers, half-way to his mouth. It seemed debating fax machines with Willas trumped eating his bacon.

“I do not know. We do not typically use fax machines in the symphony,” Renly said, “It is all through email. Although I thought I saw an old fax machine in my brother’s office back in Munich. It was covered in city financial reports Robert did not care to read through.”

“See Dad?”

Mace grunted and finally ate his bacon. Their conversation continued, and Renly went back to his food, listening in on the boisterous conversations at the Tyrell brunch table. Garlan and Loras were talking police work, Margaery and Alerie were discussing the interior of a house Margaery had been asked to hypothetically decorate for class of hers, and Mace and Willas were going on about fax machines apparently.

The buzz of their voices and the life in their eyes brought peace to Renly, and he simply sat and ate and took the time to enjoy the atmosphere for what it was.

As a child he had made it his mission to make people like him, desperate to keep people around as company. Their manor outside of Munich had been a terribly lonely place to grow up, and Renly sought the company of most anyone. Abandoning German social norms Renly would even start conversations with people he had just met in the line-up at a store, his young charm winning him more favours than scorn. Even the postman who would visit once a day had to listen to five year old Renly’s rant about crayons. When he’d entered school, Renly secured a spot as one of the popular kids, attracting everyone with his natural charm and storytelling ability. Accepting everyone regardless of whether or not they were thought to be ‘ _bizarr’_ by the rest of society, Renly was the man anyone could go to if they needed someone to talk to. He never turned them down and always extended his friendship.

But people rarely cared to listen _to_ Renly. Renly put on such an act all the time that people began to honestly believe he was never angry or upset, that sadness rolled off his back like water droplets on a duck. Renly knew they all knew he was not the happiest of kids, and that his smiles were mostly just an act put on to hide the insecurities he had deep within him, but they did not want to ask about how he was feeling. If Renly hurt just like they did, than was there any real hope in the world? He was to be talked at and vented at. And Renly did not see anything wrong with that, so long as there was someone with him to fill the lonely silence.

But then he came to England, and suddenly the silence was filled with meaningful conversations. Suddenly Renly found he could be himself. Suddenly Renly found his place in life. And it was all thanks to an exchange program, an astute piano teacher, and an English host family that became his _true_ family almost immediately.

It was something to be cherished, and so Renly took the time to enjoy early birthday brunches and stolen bacon strips, not saying a word because he did not need to.

“You alright?”

Loras’ voice was close, and Renly turned to see he had leaned in to him, his hand touching his thigh gently. “I am fine. Just a bit… knackered.” He used the English expression, earning himself a bright smile. Renly could bask in that smile for all eternity…

“We’ll leave in a bit to take a nap,” Loras said, moving into give Renly a sticky kiss. He had gorged himself on waffles earlier. “Then we can watch another World Cup match.”

He was in good spirits. Loras always seemed to be in good spirits around his family. His smile more than he pouted and his laughter came freely. His shoulders were rolled back, relaxed and comfortable and confident. That had been the first thing Renly had been attracted to Loras—his confidence. Of course, that confidence boarded on arrogant much of the time, but Renly liked that, too. He would be hard pressed to think of something he did not like about Loras; even his faults were positives in Renly’s eyes.

“Mm, that sounds nice. Curl up in bed, sleep for a bit and then turn on the television to watch a match.” Renly had never watched a single football match until he had met Loras. He still was not enthralled, but Loras liked it and so he humoured him—even when Loras was cursing Germany’s very existence after they had crushed the English team. “I would suggest food before we go to the club, but I am so full right now I think I might vomit.”

“Good idea.”

“You two are disgusting.”

Margaery’s voice broke through the little bubble they had created around themselves. Turning to Margaery, Renly quirked a brow while Loras did something with his fingers that Renly saw out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re just jealous,” Loras said.

“Yes I am sure she is terribly jealous. Who would not be jealous of you? Just look at me.” Renly shot Margaery a wink and sat back in his chair, having given up on finishing his fifth eggs benedict.

“You’re right—who wouldn’t want to snatch you right up? You should do something about that,” Margaery said pointedly, looking at Renly with a certain ‘all knowing’ glint in her eye.

Renly went back to being interested in his eggs benedict.

“So did anyone hear about the recent flu outbreak in Ireland?” Willas asked to the entire table. He was sitting back in his chair, holding a cup in his hand and looking ready to tell them all about the outbreak whether they wished to hear about it or not.

“What; like that bird-flu thing?” Mace asked, taking the bait.

“Sounds like a new strain,” he continued, “it’s spreading quickly over there. Vomiting, the shakes, and some have progressed to the point of violent seizures. Rumour has it that the doctors at the main hospital in Dublin are working in hazmat suits. Highly contagious.”

“And the news hasn’t talked about this?” Alerie asked. She was pulling at her necklace, a habit Renly had noticed she did when worried.

“They have, it’s just not been headline news yet. As soon as they catch on to it you know it will be a huge story and they treat it like the world is about to end.”

“It does sound fairly serious,” Garlan said.

“Not to worry—most of these strains affect the elderly and the already sick,” replied Willas.

“We’d better keep an eye on you then, Dad,” Loras supplied, earning himself a soft cuff about the back of his head by Garlan.

“Do they know what has caused it?” Renly asked. He remembered the bird-flu scare, as well as H1N1, and already began to imagine what this one would be named.

“No idea, but some suspect it’s started with livestock, which is utterly fascinating if you ask me.” Willas looked a little _too_ fascinated if Renly was going to be honest. Still, he admired his passion.

“So that’s why you’re interested. Livestock and viruses—right up your alley,” Garlan drawled, rolling his eyes.

“It was probably sheep. Some Irish bloke shagged a sheep and—” Once again Loras was cuffed. Renly reached up and gently rubbed the assaulted area, making no remark on whether or not Loras deserved it. Loras was not one to admit he was in the wrong; ever. It made for interesting arguments.

“Anyways I just thought it was interesting,” Willas said, shrugging.

There was silence around the table. Alerie was still tugging at her necklace; Mace was playing with his cufflink; Willas was looking a bit sheepish; Garlan had a piece of toast in his hand he did not look like he was going to eat, and Margaery was sipping her tea and looking at Willas with displeasure.

The only one who did not seem fazed was Loras.

“Anyways—anyone looking forward to the next World Cup match?” he asked loudly, reaching for his sixth cup of tea.

Clearly Loras did not find it interesting. Renly could not really find himself to care, either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H'okay...
> 
> So I think it's become obvious that this fic has come to a standstill. Truth of the matter is this: I got sick back in December 2014, and was unable to use my hand for some months. During this time, I couldn't write and was limited creatively. While I was recovering from surgery I went on to explore a new fandom, and as my hand progressively got better I started writing for the new fandom. This fic, sadly, was pushed to the side.
> 
> I don't know if I will ever come back to it, but I felt like I should post up what I DID write. I have close to 30 chapters already done, and I feel it's a shame to leave them locked on my laptop when I know a lot of you were very eager to read this. So I'm going to post up what I have. I don't gaurantee anything, but perhaps updating regularly will inspire me to pick the story up once again.
> 
> Again, I'm terribly sorry I abandoned this fic. I've never done this before, and I know how frustrating it can be when an author does this. I hope you enjoy what I did manage to produce, however. 
> 
> Thank you for your understanding

 

 Renly had a good profile. A straight, long nose and a strong, sharp jaw were pleasing on the eyes, but the harshness was negated by the softness in his piercing blue eyes. His hair was dark and thick, a common trait among Baratheon men, and Loras found he played with Renly’s hair almost as much as Renly played with his curls. His shoulders were broad and his chest strong, stomach flat, and long, elegant legs completed the image of a Renaissance statue. He was strong, capable of picking Loras up and holding him against the wall as they fucked, but also gentle, his touches soothing and careful, every placement of his fingers calculated and perfected, counteracting his raw power.

 He was, in a word, gorgeous. But Loras would never pick just one word to describe Renly, when there were so many to choose from.

 Handsome was one that also came to mind, along with beautiful, seductive, stunning and really bloody hot. He sort of had this James Bond persona about him, so maybe dangerous was another apt description (although Renly had a hard time even killing a fly let alone striking another person). Sophisticated was also a good word for him; he just oozed sophistication and poise when he was playing his piano. And playful—that was another one. Playful and… charming. Oh yes, utterly charming—

 “Please stop staring at me, _Röschen_.”

 Loras grinned and hid his blush. He’d been caught. “What if I told you I wasn’t staring—I was admiring?”

 “It is distracting,” Renly murmured, scribbling something down on his music notes. He’d been tinkering away all morning, working on a song for the symphony whilst writing his own original piece when he felt particularly inspired. Everyone said Loras was so lucky to live with a pianist, but they didn’t know how annoying it got when he had to hear the same three notes over and over again for hours.

 Still, it was nice when Renly played through an entire piece, particularly when he just got lost in his music, focusing in on the rhythm and the story behind it. He just got so involved in whatever it was he was doing that it felt like he was in an entirely other world when he played, completely and utterly captivated in the fantasy that Rachmaninoff, Liszt or Debussy were able to create with their own imagination. And more often than not Renly took Loras with him, dragging him into the music, keeping them together as the notes swirled around them and pressed them close.

 The first time he’d ever heard Renly play was days after he arrived at Highgarden. Loras had come in from the garden after losing his freesbie to a tree that had already eaten two footballs and numerous birdies. He heard a song he didn’t recognize come skipping down the hallway in the east wing. He remembered being surprised that they even had a piano, let alone that it was being played. Intrigued, he’d walked down to the last room in an area he’d spent maybe five minutes of his life in, and peeked around the doorway to see the grand piano sat in the middle of the room with a ray of light shining through the high windows, landing right on top of the new foreign boy he’d mostly avoided.

 After that day, Loras joined Renly during his practice, but spent the first few weeks standing awkwardly in the hallway, wanting to hear the music closer but lacking the grace to ask Renly—someone he still hadn’t spoken much to—if he could join in on what seemed like a private time for him. Eventually it was Renly who asked him to come into the room with him, causing Loras to get quite flustered when he realized Renly knew he was hiding in the hallway all this time.

That moment had started a friendship that blossomed into a relationship, and had now become a love affair. And it was the piano that had begun it…

 “You are still staring.”

 “I’m _admiring_.”

 Renly smiled but didn’t look up from his work. “Are you not supposed to be watching a game?”

 Loras sighed and stretched out on the couch, his back making a satisfying pop-pop-pop sound as he did so. Glancing at the telly, he watched the men run around on the pitch for a moment, bored already after just a few seconds. “I don’t care about who’s playing. Neither are going to make it to the finals anyways—a better team will knock whoever wins this match off of the radar soon.”

 “Are you saying you are actually bored with football?”

 “No, I’m saying I’m bored with _this_ game. It’s an entirely different concept.” He wasn’t going to admit that he was actually getting a bit overwhelmed by the World Cup already—that would be admitting even he got a bit sick of watching football continuously. He had a reputation to keep up, after all. “Take a break and come lie on the couch with me.”

 “I cannot. I just took a lunch break,” Renly said. He’d gone back to playing a few notes on the piano, long, soft fingers that should have been dancing across Loras’ skin instead finding a place on ivory keys. Loras had the telly on mute, allowing both of them to hear the notes.

 “You took a lunch break an hour ago. It’s time for a cuppa.”

 Renly let out a loud sigh and finally turned to look at Loras. Loras just stayed spread out on the couch, stretching a bit further to let his shirt ride up on his stomach, trying to entice Renly. Renly continued to stare, before he went back to looking at his papers.

 “You Germans have sticks up your arses about work,” Loras mumbled, rolling over on to his stomach. He heard Renly’s pen smack the little side table he had beside his piano.

 “It is a good thing, too—someone has got to keep Europe financially stable.”

 “How’s that working out for Greece?”

 “Well if they simply did their work and did not sit down for a ‘cuppa’ every hour…”

 “I think they sit down for ouzo. We sit down for tea and biscuits.” Loras sighed as he heard the papers shuffle again, Renly having gone back to his work. He needed to spark something in him; get him riled up enough he’d come over and join him on the couch…

“You’re acting like your brother.”

 The pencil was dropped again, this time with obvious displeasure. It felt more like a whip cracking. “What did you say?”

 Loras grinned. “For someone who says he’s not at all like a typical German and constantly bemoans their way of life, you don’t go out of your way to prove you’re not a typical German. You sound more like your brother Stannis—all about duty and—”

Loras only had time to register the heavy thump of feet on the floor before he was compressed on to the couch by a very large, very annoyed man. Immediately he wiggled in an attempt to get Renly off, but he was debilitated by an extreme case of the giggles when fingers began to ride up the side of his shirt, barely touching the skin but causing enough friction to make him squirm.

 “S-Stop it, you wanker,” Loras cried out in between his laughter. It was a muffled protest, one unheard by Renly as he continued to assault Loras. He was completely pinned to the couch, Renly’s bulk overwhelming him as he lay exposed. Renly had almost completely pulled his shirt up, and the cold air wasn’t helping with his laughter.

 “Not until you admit that I am nothing at all like my brother,” Renly said. Loras didn’t even have time to admit that, however, as Renly had moved lower and applied a very loud, very wet raspberry kiss to his lower back.

 Loras let out shriek that sounded more befitting of a small, rabid child, and instinctively bucked upward, slamming his ass right into Renly’s groin. That caused Renly to lift up far enough that Loras was able to wiggle free and collapse on to the floor beside the couch, narrowly missing the coffee table on his way down.

 “You’re a blood dead man,” Loras panted out, and reached up to drag Renly down and off the couch, Renly too almost hitting the coffee table. Instead he knocked the remote off the table, the volume on the telly shooting up to high volumes. Loras didn’t care, and ignored the announcers as they shouted goal in order to get Renly in a headlock.

 He was too slippery for that. Almost as soon as Loras got his arm around Renly’s neck he’d slid out, pushing on his arms and using his body as leverage in order to get up and away. Renly made the grave mistake of attempting to run past Loras, and with cat-like reflexes Loras caught his knee and hung on. For a second Loras thought maybe he was going to cause Renly to slam his face into the floor, and was halfway to apologizing when Renly simply stumbled and caught himself on his hands.

 

 “You fucker,” Renly growled out as Loras wasted no time in clambering on his back, pushing him down on to the floor and pinning him. Renly began to buck like a madman under Loras, and it was only through an ill-time slip of Loras’ hand around Renly’s wrist that he was able to roll on to his side and make a grab for Loras’ own hands.

 With Renly pinned to the floor and getting more and more of an upper-hand on a situation that Loras ought to have been winning, Loras did the only thing he thought he could do in order to get out of having to cry uncle, and that was stuff his hand down Renly’s pants. Wrapping his hand around Renly’s cock, Loras immediately began to stroke him—slowly and gently, but enough to definitely distract Renly.

 The pressure on his wrist was let-up almost immediately, and Renly let out a soft moan just as his hips thrust upward, his cock twitching in Loras’ hand.

 “You fucker…” Renly repeated, this time breathily.

_And victory is mine…_

 “Take a break with me?” Loras repeated. The telly was loudly playing the game in the background, but Loras was completely transfixed on Renly as he lay on the floor, wholly at his mercy.

 “Take what you said back first.”

 “I take it back,” Loras said, rolling his eyes. “You know I was kidding. You’re nothing like your brothers.”

 Renly just nodded and closed his eyes, another huff slipping past as Loras pushed his hand down to fondle his balls. “Because I am nothing like them,” Renly mumbled while Loras removed his hand and unbuttoned his trousers. “For a start, they do not have my incredibly good looks. Or my incredible wit.”

 “They also don’t have a devilishly handsome boyfriend who loves afternoon sex,” Loras added in, undoing his own pants. Standing, he pulled his jeans and underpants off before sitting back down on Renly’s still clothed waist. Pushing Renly’s trousers down along with his briefs just far enough, Loras pulled his cock and balls out and shifted forward to rub the heads of their cocks together.

 “N-No, they do not,” Renly said. His hands reached up and ran along Loras’ thighs and hips. Finally his skilful fingers were touching him and not the piano. “What will I tell everyone when I do not know the final piece to Mozart’s Piano Concerto number twenty?”

 “Tell them you were playing the flute.”

 “I do not play the flute.”

 “It’s an expression,” Loras said, sitting back as Renly sat up, his arms wrapping around his waist. Loosely draping his arms over Renly’s shoulders, Loras moved in for a slow, passionate kiss. Lips parting, Loras let Renly take control, moaning as his tongue entered his mouth, sliding across his tongue and the roof of his mouth, before pulling back so a gentle bite could be applied to his pouty bottom lip.

 “What does it mean?” Renly asked, but didn’t give Loras time to reply as he was caught in another kiss, this one harder and more instant than the other. Moaning into the embrace, Loras thrust his hips forward, trying to get some friction going as Renly’s hands rode up his shirt, fingers fanning out across his back. Pulling back again, Renly stared up at Loras with swollen lips and dishevelled hair. “To play the flute…”

 Loras laughed softly as he pushed his curls back from his face. His lips tingled. Renly had always gone on about how amazing Loras’ lips were—pillow soft clouds he’d once called them. Loras wasn’t going to go and lie about the size of his lips; they made him quite a good _flute_ player. “It means to suck cock, love,” he said.

 “Geile Sau.” Renly kissed his neck and then nipped the skin right over his pulse, making Loras shiver all over.

 “What does that mean? Did you call me a pig?”

 “No Sau means… pretty.”

 “No it doesn’t.”

 Renly just hushed Loras by sucking on his earlobe.

 “You should get the lube from the bedroom,” Loras mumbled as he reached down between them to stroke Renly a few times as Renly continued to tease him, kissing every inch of skin he could find.

 “I thought I was supposed to be on a break.”

 Loras let out a growl, half out of annoyance and half out of desire. Quickly pushing Renly back, he hopped off his lap and headed toward the bedroom. “You’d better be spread eagle on the floor when I get back in there,” he called. Holding on to his groin with one hand to prevent uncomfortable bouncing, he scrounged around in their bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle that had seen fuller days.

 Awkwardly jogging back to the door, Loras came round the corner, sliding on the hardwood floor to make a dramatic entrance… that was completely lost on Renly who had been distracted by the telly.

 “You’re not spread eagle on the floor,” Loras said, tossing the lube at Renly who caught it at the last second, narrowly avoiding getting a bottle of lube to the head.

 “Sorry,” he pushed the table out of the way and flopped back on the carpet, shaking the floor with the force at which he collapsed, “I was watching the men run around and get all sweaty.”

 “You can watch me get all sweaty,” Loras said, crawling on top of Renly. Gripping his wrists gently, he grinned and bent down for a slow, easy kiss, relaxing into Renly as those strong, long legs he’d been admiring (not _staring_ at) wrapped around his waist and pulled him down.

 They ground together on the floor for a time, kissing and running their hands all over each other’s bodies. Loras was determined to draw this out for as long as possible, knowing fully well Renly needed the break—he’d been staring at his music notes since early morning, after all, and Loras was here to keep Renly from overworking himself. His intentions were completely and utterly selfless.

 “Are you going to fuck me today or just tease?” Renly mumbled in between another kiss. His hands were grabbing Loras’ ass, squeezing and kneading the muscles with increased insistency.

 Sitting up, Loras scooted back in between Renly’s legs and grabbed the lube, brushing a bit of spit of his lip as he did so. “I suppose I can do tha—”

 The satisfying pop of the cap opening was interrupted by a loud siren on the telly. Loras wrenched his head around to look over his shoulder, pulling a muscle in his neck as he did so. Automatically he reached up and grabbed at his neck, turning back around as the BBC logo flashed across the screen. Renly seemed entirely disinterested in Loras’ discomfort and sat up to stare over his shoulder, his hand patting Loras’ thigh distractedly.

 Grunting in dissatisfaction at the pain and the interruption, it was with great displeasure that Loras turned around and sat beside Renly on floor to watch the news report whatever the hell it was that had caused the station to move away from the footie match. _It had better be important..._

 “We interrupt this Portugal versus United States of America match with breaking news out of Ireland,” the reporter began. She was sitting bolt-up-right at her chair, demeanour not at all typical for a newscaster of BBC’s calibre. She kept glancing off screen with uncertainty, as if she had just been pulled into the chair last minute, no direction at all. She reminded Loras of a startled rabbit almost, the usual calm, careful and controlled persona of a newscaster all but gone, her eyes a bit wide and her hands gripping the sheet in front of her with a hint of urgency. Loras was completely put on edge just by _looking_ at her, and couldn’t help but think back to Willas’ comment about Ireland.

_“So did anyone hear about the recent flu outbreak in Ireland?”_

 “Cases of the unidentified rabies strain that started there last week are increasing,” she continued, finding her footing somewhat, renewed strength in her voice. “Ireland's Health Protection Surveillance Centre is working with the U.S. CDC and the European Centre for Disease Prevention to further identify the illness.  The impact on the Irish infrastructure has been vast, and the Irish Independent is reporting that the government there is considering closing the borders to prevent further spread.  Reported cases are also starting to crop up in Canada, Greenland, and Iceland.  We go live now to Merrion Street in Dublin where Taoiseach Florent has just begun addressing the nation...”

 Renly’s hand slipped into Loras’ as the screen flashed to the press conference. Suddenly things didn’t seem as funny as they had a few days ago, when jokes about sheep slipped of his tongue as easily as pennies into a fountain. The Prime Minister stepped in front of his podium, row upon row of the Irish flag situated behind him, no longer looking as proud as it once had as the grave, sombre tone of the room took hold, cloaking everyone and everything in it.

 Florent had never looked particularly impressive, his expression severe and his tone quick and steady, no warmth in his voice—not ever. But there was something in his voice now; a worry to his tone, as if something had sunk deep into his gut and refused to move.

 “As many of you may now know, there has been a recent outbreak of an unknown virus on the streets of our cities. The first known case was reported in the early spring, and has continued without relent. Despite the best efforts of our finest medical professionals, the virus continues to spread. Because of the unknown nature, and the severity of the virus, we, the government of Ireland, have decided to close our boarders. The nation will now be under lockdown, with no flights coming in or out, until we know more, in addition to limiting trade through our docks and air. This is a voluntary lockdown; one we believe is best for Ireland, and best for our neighbors.

  “I urge my fellow citizens to stay strong during this trying time, and to take comfort in the knowledge that this _will_ be resolved. We are doing everything in our capacity to curb the spread of the virus, and to come up with a way in which to treat those already affected by this horrible affliction. In the meantime, we ask that those living in quarantined areas continue to listen to the health advisors in the area. Respect the curfew, and report any and all illnesses to local medical institutions equipped to handle the virus.”

 The image cut, and all that played were video images of people in hazmat suits on the streets of Dublin.

 “We need to call my parents,” Loras said quietly.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras is a worry-wart.

 

 Renly’s bag lay open on their bed, not a single item inside it save for a lone shirt and a tie he didn’t even like.

 Loras kept an eye on him as he packed his own bag, second guessing every item he was putting inside it. It wasn’t like he was planning on leaving their home for good, and yet he couldn’t stop from feeling as if this was some sort of goodbye. Goodbye to what, he wasn’t quite sure. But Renly hadn’t been packing. He’d go to his bag with his mobile in hand, fiddle around with the straps and stare at its empty center, before going off into another room as soon as there was a buzz in his hand.

 Loras would idly listen in, watching Renly pace past the door, speaking quickly in German. Since the news report that was all Renly seemed to be doing—making phone calls and receiving them.  Anytime Loras asked what it was about Renly would shrug, wave his hand and say it was nothing before going back to staring at his travel bag with glazed over eyes.

 Had Loras been more aware he might have demanded Renly tell him what was going on. As it stood, he was too busy mulling over why he felt like this was goodbye.

 It had only taken an hour after the news for his father to demand that they make their way to Highgarden. _Just in case_ , he’d said, then added that Garlan had suggested it and therefore it must be a good idea. Loras wasn’t sure if Garlan’s suggestion was meant to come as a comfort or not, but it had left Loras unsettled, his stomach sitting high in his throat as he thought over every possible way something could go wrong.

 The news had said not to worry. They had said they had things under control and that nothing bad was to happen. Keep Calm and Carry on had already been touted by some, as if comparing this supposedly minor event to the Second World War was to be of any comfort. But how could anyone carry one when the stench of death was in the air? The streets of London weren’t as loud as they had been yesterday; they weren’t as vibrant. Loras stared out the window all night, watching the foot traffic dwindle until no one walked past their flat. Loras felt isolated in a city he’d never felt alone in before.

 Maybe that was what Loras had been saying goodbye to. Goodbye to a London that seemed to have changed with just the single rotation of the moon.

 People were already paranoid. Watch out for rats, avoid dogs, and never, under any circumstances, approach a person who was acting agitated; irate; out of sorts. Of course that was just asking for trouble. A drunken bloke seen stumbling down the street was suddenly an infected threat, come down with an unidentified form of rabies that had already killed seventy-two people in the span of four days…

 But Loras just packed and tried not to think about that. Instead he thought about what he could do. Keep himself busy; occupy yourself and the world would keep turning was what he’d always told himself when he got too antsy. Loras didn’t like being cooped up. He didn’t like being constrained in any manner, whether physically locked in a room and told to sit, or withheld vital information that he thought he ought to know. Any restraint was terrible for him. It made him anxious and frustrated and violent.

 It made him into a rabies patient.

 And the one person who always talked him down from it was yelling in a harsh language in the kitchen.

 Loras sat down on the bed beside his mostly packed bag. It had the essentials in it along with a few times he didn’t need but wanted along. He had clothes at Highgarden but he’d packed a cashmere sweater he’d got in Switzerland. Renly had bought it for him; picked it out from a shop that Loras remembered smelled of pine. It was sea-foam green (as Margaery described), and Renly said it brought out the gold in Loras’ eyes. He’d worn it on their last night in Bern, and the way Renly wrapped his arms around him as they stood along the river secured the top as Loras’ favourite. He’d felt invincible then, and he supposed he’d need that invincibility now.

 “Ich glaub, ich hab den Verstand verloren.”

 Loras turned and watched Renly toss his mobile on to the bed. That was the first time all day he’d put it down.

 “What?”

 Renly looked up at Loras and smiled wearily. “Sorry, Röschen.  Have you finished packing?”

 “Yeah,” he tucked one leg under himself and sat on his foot, “kind of obvious, no?”

 Renly glanced at the pack and then at his own, and rubbed the back of his head. Loras would have found the motion charming had he not felt so tied up in knots. “I suppose I should pack, too.”

 “Probably a good idea. I told my mum we’d be there right around supper.”

 Renly nodded and made move to grab his bag when his mobile began to buzz on the bed. Loras watched as he picked it up and read whatever was written on the screen before him. He looked irritated again. Irritated and nervous. That wasn’t a combination Loras was used to seeing on Renly’s face.

 “You speaking to your brothers?” he asked casually. He’d been texting Margaery non-stop since last night until she told him he needed to keep _himself_ calm until they met up at Highgarden. He had a tendency to run to Margaery when he got agitated, but even she couldn’t always handle his incessant questions about if she was alright and alive and not feeling like she’d come down with rabies.

 “What?” Renly looked up from his phone before he shook his head and went back to texting. “No, no there is no point. We have not spoken in years.”

 Loras supposed he should have expected that answer.

 “Who is it then?”

  _Tell me or I think I might punch something._

 “Friends.” Renly stuffed his phone in his back pocket. When he finally looked back up it seemed he finally _saw_ Loras and didn’t just pass over him. Quickly his expression changed, irritation being replaced with concern.

 Loras guessed he was beginning to _look_ like he was going to punch something, because Renly was immediately at his side, sitting down beside him on the bed and grabbing the back of his neck in a rough but reassuring hold.

 “Hey, Loras, do not worry, okay? This is nothing—there is nothing to worry about. The news likes to make a big issue out of these things but it always turns out to be nothing.”

 “Then how come so many people have died already?” Renly’s forehead knocked against his, and Loras closed his eyes as Renly continued to calm him. His breath was warm against his cheek and his hand hot and heavy against his skin. He’d started rubbing small circles with his thumb, a curl caught up in the rotation, tickling Loras.

 “Remember how Willas said the weak and old die? They were probably all old people.”

 “The doctors and nurses were all old?” Renly wasn’t helping. What he was saying wasn’t matching up. Something was definitely wrong; you could feel it in the air. It was all around you. Something was wrong and—

 Renly shushed him with a kiss. It was a chaste kiss, but it was enough to snap Loras out of his doomsday thoughts. Opening his eyes he stared back into Renly’s dark blue, clinging to his strength and soaking in his calming persona. Renly had always been Loras’ water to his inner fire, keeping him grounded and level.

 “Do not worry, Röschen. All of this panic? This trip to your parents’ home? It was probably your mother’s idea. You know how worried she gets…”

 Loras nodded. That was probably it—his dad had just gone along with his mum’s request because it was easy to do that. “You’re right,” he said, and kissed Renly before standing. Grabbing his bag he zipped it up and extended his hand. “You should pack your things. Just enough stuff for a few days at Highgarden,” he said as Renly accepted the help off the bed.

 “About that…” Renly began, and the ice cold feeling in Loras’ gut returned, “I will have to meet you at Highgarden.”

 “What?!”

 The world felt like it was effectively ending and Renly wasn’t coming with him? How could he possibly leave here without Renly? Renly needed to be by his side so Loras could know he was okay—how could Renly be okay if he wasn’t with him?

 “I have some things to do before I go to Highgarden,” Renly said quickly, “It will only take a few hours—I will be at your side later tonight. I just have someone to meet before we go.”

 “Then I’ll stay and wait,” Loras replied. He tossed his bag back on to the bed. He knew he was being stubborn but he wasn’t being unreasonable. They had to stick together; that was the entire point of traveling to Highgarden—so they could be together. “Or maybe I’ll just come with you. Whenever these sorts of doomsday things start people always peg it on the foreigners, you know.”

 Renly sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Loras felt a pang of sympathy before he shoved it aside. He was right about this. “You cannot come with me. This is a personal matter.”

 “What is it, then? Where are you going?”

 “Someplace.”

 “Oh for fuck sakes, Ren. I’m not just going to let you go off on your own for reasons you won’t even bloody tell me about!”

 Renly moved to Loras then. Loras thought he was going to hit him and tried to get out of the way, instinctively ducking to the side, muscles tensing. Renly had never hit Loras in his life and yet the reaction to get away was still there, years of pent-up aggression as a foolish teenage making his fight instinct too strong. But Renly just hooked his arm around Loras’ shoulders and brought him in for a tight hug.

 Loras let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and slumped into Renly’s embrace, the surge of adrenaline leaving him feeling limp. He felt shitty for having yelled at Renly, and even worse for having even suspected he was going to hit him. Pressing his face against Renly’s neck he breathed in his scent, trying to calm himself. He hated how he got so frantic so easily. As soon as one stone started to shift under his feet he thought the entire floor was going to give way.

 As the rush of blood in his head went away, Loras realized Renly was humming a song in his ear, stroking his back gently as he did so. It was the song from his birthday—the one by the bloke from the war.

 “I’m not a child,” Loras mumbled, but made no further protests at the treatment he was receiving.

 “I know you are not,” Renly said. He continued to rub Loras’ back.

 “I wish you would tell me where you’re going.”

 “I am going to the German consulate in the city.” Renly said it so easily Loras wondered why he’d tried to cover it up in the first place.

 “Why?” He pulled away from Renly to look at him.

 “I was trying to get through to Robert. He has not been answering his calls in Munich. Chances are he is passed out in some brothel, but that is just the pessimist in me saying that.”

 “I don’t like you leaving by yourself,” he reached up and cupped Renly’s cheek, feeling the bit of stubble that had grown with the pad of his thumb, “Anything could happen to you and I wouldn’t be there.”

 “You are acting as if the world is actually ending. The disease has yet to make it here and with all the attention on the borders now it is unlikely it will. The top researches in the world are working on a cure right now. You and I are both completely safe where we are. Nothing will happen to me—you have to trust me on that.”

 Loras pulled a face. “Don’t pull the trust card.”

 “I am not pulling any card. Just know that _I_ know what I am doing. I will meet with whomever I need to meet, and when that is done I will leave for Highgarden right away. We will spend the night in your old bed, far away from London, safe as houses.”

 Loras had no idea what that expression even meant let alone where Renly had learned it, but the point remained—they were safe. Hell, they were safe here, too. It was just his mother’s request and Garlan’s suggestion that had brought them to this point. The infection was in Ireland and other countries and it wouldn’t come here. His family was safe, and that was all that mattered to Loras.

 “Alright. You’d better come right away when you’re done, though. I’m not about to go the night without you.”

 “How could I sleep without you to drool all over me?” Renly asked, and shushed Lora’ rebuttal with a kiss.

XX

 “Did you really need to bring that with you?”

 Loras glanced up from his photograph to see Margaery staring at him. She’d given up on her book and had moved on to staring out the car window. Obviously that had bored her, too, and now she was staring at him.

 “I didn’t want to risk the chance of losing it,” he said.

 Margaery snatched the photo from Loras’ hand and straightened it out on her lap. It was a photograph Loras had on his bedside table of he and Renly outside the British museum. They were bundled up in their winter coats and scarves, grinning at the camera as the chilly wind blew their hair into a horrible mess. Loras thought Renly looked fetching in the photo and had framed it as soon as he saw it.

 “You too look terribly cute in this photo,” Margaery said, and passed it back. “But I still don’t think you need it. You’re working yourself up into a horrible state, Lorry.”

 “I’m not working myself up into anything. I’m just… preparing.” He looked out the window, jaw clenched from stress. Margaery noticed it—Loras just knew she did. She noticed _everything_.

 “If Gran were around you know she’d tell you to smarten up. She lived through a war and eighties fashion—she knew when things were dire and when they were not.”

 “If Gran were still around I’d probably have been hung and quartered long ago for shagging a ‘Jerry’,” he said, slouching back in his plush leather seat. Margaery had rented a car, figuring it would be faster than getting a cab, but the time appeared to be the same. London traffic was always terrible but it was worse when people were out and about, stuffing their apartments full of water jugs and buying out the medical masks at the local corner shops.

 Margaery reached across the seats and grabbed Loras’ hand, curling her fingers around his. “Stop worrying—for me?”

 He sighed and jutted his bottom lip out. It was easy to say he’d stop worrying but an entirely different thing to actually do it. Rolling his head to the side he looked at Margaery, noticing how she appeared as she always did—perfectly styled, not a hair out of place nor a crease in her dress. Meanwhile here he was, a wrinkled tee on with skinny jeans he’d worn for the third day in a row, and a beanie on his head in an attempt to hide his frizzy curls. Renly said he looked cute, but then added he looked cute for a homeless person.

 “I’d be able to promise that if you could bring me Renly.”

 “You’re impossible, Loras. Renly is an adult—he’s perfectly capable of looking after himself.” She squeezed his hand and let go, sitting back in her seat. She had her mobile in her free hand and had been texting their cousins the entire drive.

 “I’m not the one texting my cousins obsessively,” he said, “You’re worried about them. Can’t I be worried about Renly?”

 Margaery sighed, rolled her eyes, and dropped her phone down on to her lap. “I’m worried about them  because they’re younger than we are. Younger than Renly, too. They have reason to be alarmed because they don’t know any better. You do. Now please, Loras, you’re making me tense with that glower of yours. Everything is going to be fine. Mother just wants to see us and this is a perfectly excuse to visit Highgarden now that the roses are blooming. We’ll be home in no-time at all.”

 Loras slouched further. He didn’t appreciate being talked to like a child. He also did not appreciate being made to feel like his worries didn’t matter. But he didn’t say that and just rested his head against the window. At least the English countryside looked the same as it always did, no paranoid people standing in line outside the grocery shop with a mask on waiting to purchase canned food.

 “Where is Renly anyways?”

 “Went to try and call his brother.”

 She hummed and Loras went back to listening to her fingernails click against the screen of her phone. It took Loras a good three minutes of thinking about nothing until something came to him rather abruptly. Sitting up he tapped the middle of the seat quickly, catching Margaery’s attention.

 “When I asked him if he was going to talk to his brothers he said there was no point because they haven’t spoken in years,” Loras began, “But then when he finally told me where he was going and why, he said it was to get into contact with Robert.”

 Margaery frowned. “And this means what?”

 “I don’t bloody know, but what I do know is he’s a fucking liar.” He slammed the side of his fist against the car door, a satisfying thunk accompanying the action. It felt good to just hit something.

 “Loras!”

 “Is everything alright back there?” The driver had turned slightly, ear toward them, his gaze flicking up to the rear-view mirror. Loras just glared back while Margaery said that everything was fine.

 “Stop acting like a petulant child,” Margaery hissed. That just made Loras angrier, but he was silenced as she continued, no room for argument in her tone. “Acting like this is getting us nowhere, Loras. Renly has a life outside of yours, believe it or not, and he can’t just drop everything to be here—not right away. He has things to do as well and this doesn’t mean anything bad for you. If he was going to start having an affair or god knows what else you think he might be doing, he’d have started it long ago. And I’d have known about it.”

 She didn’t get it. Loras wasn’t mad about Renly having lied or about him having a life outside his or any of that—no, Loras was mad because he wasn’t there with Renly while everything seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Renly was supposed to be with him; the whole reason for this trip was to make sure the Tyrells were _together_. Loras didn’t like not knowing where Renly was. He felt powerless and that frustrated him, and that frustration made him angry and violent and a ‘petulant child’.

He didn’t say any of that, though. He was afraid if he tried to explain it he’d just end up screaming. But Margaery wasn’t done. When she continued, however, her tone was softer.

 “Everything is going to be fine. Renly will come to Highgarden later tonight, you’ll have a late dinner together, moon over each other as you always do, and go to bed. The world isn’t going to end, Lorry. If it were, Renly wouldn’t have gone.”

 He nodded. It was a bit hesitant at first but grew stronger as he mulled over what Margaery had said. She had a point. In fact she had a massive point the size of the sun. If things were really as bad as he was making them out to be in his head, Renly would be with him. They promised to ride out the hypothetical end of the world together one night whilst high sitting in a tree in the middle of summer, crickets and a lone owl the only ones there to hear their asinine conversation. Renly always came through on a promise.

 It wasn’t the end of the world; Loras was just overreacting like he was want to do.

 “I’m being a tit,” he mumbled. He sent Margaery an apologetic look, one that was received with an eye roll and a small smile.

 “Well as long as you recognize it…” She reached out with her foot and gently nudged his leg with the tip of her shoe. “Stop being a worry wart.”

Xx

“Loras I swear if you ask me one more time what the confidential reports are saying I’ll be forced to arrest you.”

 Loras trailed after Garlan, following him down the main steps that entered on to the marble foyer of Highgarden.

“I just want to know what is going on,” he said. Reaching out and grabbing Garlan’s arm, he spun him around in the middle of the entrance and was unsurpassed to be met with a powerful glare. “Just tell me what is going on. Please?”

 “There is nothing going on. The government has been watching the situation in Ireland carefully and have been updating the London Police as the reports come in. Nothing has changed in the last twenty-four hours, Loras. Maybe a few more cases and maybe a few more deaths, but nothing that would qualify a full lockdown,” Garlan said through clenched teeth.

 “What would a full lockdown constitute as?”

 Willas’ voice broke through the tension like the proverbial hot knife through butter. Loras glanced over Garlan’s shoulder to see Willas had walked into the foyer, his cane in one hand and his pack in the other. He had arrived here before Loras had, which meant he wasn’t planning on staying if his bag was anything to go by.

 “Why are you—”

 “Lockdown would be closing the borders like Ireland has decided to do. There have been no reported cases of the virus in the UK so far, and therefore we have no reason to close the borders,” Garlan explained, making a concerted effort to speak directly to Loras despite the question having come from Willas.

 “That’s not entirely true,” Willas said, coming up beside Garlan.

 “What’s not true?” Loras asked quickly.

 “No reported cases in the UK. There might be a few up in Scotland. Unofficially, of course.”

 Loras felt like he was about to be sick. “What do you mean unofficially?”

 “The doctors there haven’t done the proper study on the disease so they can’t say for sure, but all the outward symptoms seem to match up.”

 “Bloody hell,” Garlan mumbled. Loras noted he looked more out of sorts than he usually did—as if his uniform didn’t fit as well as it always had, a bit too large in the shoulders and frumpy around the waist. “Where are you going?” he asked, finally noticing Willas’ bag.

 “I’ve been asked to help research the virus. It’s a form of rabies, or at least it takes on the symptoms of it, just at a more exaggerated rate,” he explained. He sounded weary, the curiosity in his voice from Loras’ birthday brunch all but gone.

 “And you’re going because of your PhD, I suppose?”

 “Well when one writes their entire thesis on the effects of rabies in the Equidae population, one tends to get roped into these matters.”

 “Has it spread through horses?” Loras asked quickly. He wanted answers—now. Knowledge was power, and power was what Loras needed right now. If it had spread to Scotland already god only knew how long it would take for it to make it to England. If London got hit…

 Willas shook his head. “They think it started with rats. It would explain why coastal countries along the Atlantic got hit first. Rats tend to stay on the ships and then scurry out when they come to land. A rat bites a dog, then a dog bites a human, and we’ve got trouble.”

 “Have any sailors come down with the flu?” Garlan asked. Loras found it odd he called it the flu. He didn’t think the flu covered it enough.

  “I don’t know—that’s why I’m going over to one of the research stations that’s been set up at Oxford.”

 “Have you told mum you’re leaving?” Garlan inquired. “She’s been sitting in her room all day in front of the telly.”

 “I told her and I spent some time with her. Father knows, too.”

 Willas made move to leave then, but Loras reached out and grabbed his shoulder gently. “Wait, Willas… be truthful with me,” he locked eyes with Willas, trying to read his emotions, hoping to find some glimmer of hope in his eyes. “How serious is this?”

 Willas looked over at Garlan and then back at Loras. The hope wasn’t there. All Loras could see was fright. “It could get serious. Stay with mother and make sure she’s okay. Stay strong for me, Loras, alright?”

 Loras nodded dumbly, his hand dropping from Willas’ shoulder. He felt cold; empty; numb. Willas had always had something reassuring to say; he was the rock of the family, the one who kept everyone together. Loras had never heard that tone in Willas’ voice before—that slight quiver that spoke volumes.

 He felt Willas’ arm wrap around him, his cane tapping his back gently as it hung loosely in Willas’ arm. Loras returned the embrace, patting Willas’ back with slight pressure as a kiss was applied to his temple.

“Don’t worry, Loras. It’ll be alright soon,” he mumbled as they broke apart. He was smiling one of those forced smiles; the one your doctor gave you when they were going to tell you that you had pancreatic cancer, but didn’t want you to panic. Loras wasn’t panicking, but he wasn’t feeling much of anything really. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

 “I won’t,” he said quietly, and moved out of the way as Garlan went in for a hug as well. He heard Garlan say something about calling the station and keeping them informed, followed by something about Leonette. She’d stayed in London, wanting to be close to Garlan while he worked at the station. He’d only been able to come to Highgarden for a short while, a futile attempt at making everyone feel better about the end of the world.

 They watched Willas leave, Loras with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets while Garlan tapped away at his blackberry. Neither said much for a time, both just facing the door, lost in thought. Loras wanted Renly there with him…

 “Is there anything I can do?” he finally asked. Keep busy—he just had to keep busy.

 “Not a lot, I’m afraid. You’re not trained for police work—as much as I’d like to use you—and dad’s been off gathering whatever he figures the house will need for the next week or so, should anything happen,” Garlan said, shoving his phone back in its holster at his side. “You could go sit with mum for a bit. She’s been out of sorts worrying herself sick with this. She thinks there is something she can do but she can’t. I think Willas having to go off and actually work with the virus has put her even more on edge, to be truthful. She wanted us all here, but we can’t just drop everything.”

 Loras supposed he now knew where he got that particular trait from. Worrying about things he can’t control; wanting to protect everyone but being unable to do it. It made him feel like shit. He wasn’t sure if he’d be much help to his mother in the state he was in, but there was nothing else to do other than stand in line with all the other panicking people in hopes of buying some water.

 “Yeah, I can do that,” he said, running a hand through his curls.

 “I’ll be back here around midnight tonight when my shift is done and fill you in if I learn anything else,” Garlan continued, his phone back in his hand as he walked to the door. “I’ll try and bring Leonette around.”

 “Hopefully Renly will be here,” Loras replied. Garlan nodded and sent Loras a tense smile before he was out the door and down the steps, heading toward his car. Suddenly he once again filled his uniform out a little better.

 The doors to the house had been left open and a warm summer breeze carried in the scents from the outside—roses and fresh cut grass. But the breeze made Loras’ skin feel clammy and the smells were nauseating. Turning he headed to an old powder room that had been converted into a bathroom just off the main hallway. Opening the door, Loras shut it and locked it carefully before leaning on the sink. Curling his hand around the porcelain basin, he stared down at the drain, watching the water drip into the basin.

 A buzz in his back pocket broke him from his daze, and he reached back to pull it out, catching sight of himself in the mirror as he did so. He looked like shit.

 There was a text on his phone from Renly.

 ‘ _Traffic is terrible. I will be there a bit later than expected. Love you xx’_

Sighing, he shot off a simple ‘x’ in reply before shoving his phone back in his pocket. Turning on the taps, he splashed his face with cold water, cooling his skin and getting rid of the feint feeling of sick off. Standing a bit straighter, he pulled his beanie out from his other back pocket and put it on, hiding his curls away enough to look presentable. Giving himself a once over and satisfied his appearance wouldn’t worry his mum, he left the powder room and went up the familiar grand staircase and down the hall, going to his mum’s favourite room.

 As he neared he heard the telly on, the news being played if the discussion about the virus was anything to go by. Knocking gently, he let himself in and saw his mother curled up in a plush chair, tugging at her necklace. She’d always been prone to doing that but Loras could never figure out why.

  _Just a habit,_ he thought.

 “Hello, mum,” he said, shutting the door behind him. She turned then. She looked sick like he’d been moments before—skin tight on her face and eyes a bit too wide. But she smiled when she saw him, and pulled him over into a hug.

 “Hello, darling. How are you?”

 “I’m fine,” he lied. He sounded convincing. Straightening, he tucked a lock of her straight hair behind her ear. He’d always admired how she let it go silver, not fighting the passage of time like some were want to do. He thought she looked elegant. “How are you?”

 She shrugged and her smile faltered. “A bit worried but I will be fine. Your father will be back soon which is good. Where is Renly?” She glanced over his shoulder, as if Loras had been hiding the six-foot three Bavarian behind the door.

 “He’s still in London trying to get into contact with his brothers. He’ll be here later tonight,” he said, taking a seat across from her. The news was distracting and was only upsetting the both of them more. Reaching out, he took the remote and turned the telly off, cocooning them in tense silence. Eventually Loras broke it.

 “Is there anything I can do, mum? Want me to get the cook to make you something, or I can fetch you some water?”

 “Actually…” she began. She looked a bit sheepish, and Loras was about to ask what it was that had caused this sudden awkwardness when she finished her request. “Do you have any marijuana?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember: No new updates for some time, but the story will be done, and when it is done expect weekly updates like I did with all of my other fanfics.


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